My room has a view of a graveyard. I'm all

My room has a view of a graveyard. I'm all alone

with my stupid thoughts. I stare at the graveyard and wish I was dead. My thoughts are so boring, they are like clerks at the Big!Lots, empty and robotic. If I was dead then

at least I could lie in a nice mouldy coffin with the maggots and have people put flowers on my grave. But then an inner spark caused me to utter, "Old age should burn and rage at

limits of tapioca or lime jello!" I pressed the button that allowed my back to rise up in bed and called the nurse. " I WANT A STEAK! RARE!" Thus began the octogenarian revolt.

which lasted for 40 days and 40 nights, at the end of which, only a handful of us, elderly anarchists, remained alive. Some had been killed by the nurses, others by hunger strike.

Everyone else who was killed met their untimely fate as a result of biological warfare when the New World Order dropped pigs from jet planes infected with the bubonic plague.

Still, people were starving; they had to eat. It grew quickly from epidemic to pandemic as the planes carried passengers to vacations in Cancun and Tibet; this was their souvenir.

It was always their goal to find one popular souvenir and grab the last one on the shelf. It did not matter to them if there were more items in the stock room, or if its THE PLAGUE

!!!" I awoke with a start. Mom said, "You can't sleep until story time is over. Respect the completion." Her window shopping narrative was making my eyes heavy. Nap time sounded